Extinction
by owlchicka
Summary: Fifteen years after the failed Second Rebellion, the districts have evolved but the Hunger Games haven't. They are as brutal as ever...if not more so
1. Changes

**This is totally in the rules. PM me tributes mah darlins but please read this as I made some adjustments. Form is on my profile. GO GO GO!**

* * *

She opened up that dreaded history book. Darn procrastination. Her essay is due tomorrow. Guess there's one decent thing about Reaping Day...it'll give her the time to get the A she needs to pass the final exam so she doesn't have to go back to school. She could be earning money for her struggling family instead of sitting at a desk being pumped with Capitol propaganda. She places the chewed pencil on the paper and begins to scrawl out the words.

Out the ashes of a continent once known as North America grew the great empire of Panem. It is the mighty Capitol surrounded by thirteen distinct districts, each specializing in their own industry. They lived a happy balanced life until District Thirteen led a rebellion...

The Capitol easily brought peace back throughout the land, but it came at a dear price. Thirteen was demolished by bombs. There were no survivors. The remaining districts were punished through the Hunger Games: an annual televised fight to the death. Twenty four unfortunate souls, one male and one female aged twelve to eighteen from each district, were reaped.

This went on without protest for seventy five years. It was only just punishment. But then the Second Rebellion occurred. District Thirteen rose from their secret underground tunnels and fought a good fight. But history repeated itself. The Capitol triumphed and the Districts were punished much more severely this time...

District One the luxury industry once the wealthiest district was hit hard. Kids once pampered now use their training to fight tooth and nail for a meal.

District Two the stone industry had nothing to gain from rebellion, as they were already favored by the Capitol. They were blessed for their lack of involvement and became more powerful.

District Three the electronic industry didn't change much. You have the rich and the poor...almost all scrawny nerds if one wants to stereotype.

District Four the fishing industry also suffered. Longer harder working conditions were placed upon the fishermen. The district hasn't lost it's edge though and still trains its teens.

District Five was almost completely and utterly destroyed with chemical gases. The few survivors banded together in a tight knit community. But as time goes on, they start noticing more and more disabilities among their citizens.

District Six was the transportation industry until they surrendered quickly. Being pleased, the Capitol placed many bases there and Six became the military industry. Almost all tributes are trained and volunteer.

District Seven the lumber industry, learned that as technology increased the need for wood decreased. The people suffered, but they still produce some of the strongest tributes.

District Eight the textile industry hardly changed. Its still a weak, poverty stricken city.

District Nine the "grain" industry has some deep secrets. The Capitol has several...testing...centers there...

District Ten the livestock industry with its wide open plains remained as it was and actually grew wealthier after the rebellion.

District Eleven the agriculture industry was greatly taxed which hurt the larger families that are oh so common in the fields. Children surrounded by food starve to death on a daily basis. Only the strong survive.

District Twelve the coal industry was one of the hardest places hit. Smaller towns grew out of the destroyed city. Gangs became prevalent and you can't trust anyone.

District Thirteen has become a trap and everyone wants out. Volunteering for the Hunger Games is just about the only escape.

It has been fifteen years since the Second Rebellion and the districts are still reeling with the effects.

_Let the 90th annual Hunger Games begin..._

* * *

**Just so you know, I do finish these. I've done two complete and a third nearly finished (my sister destroyed it as revenge. awful awful day)**

**I am rather picky with my tributes.**

**AND PM IS A MUST**


	2. An Official Document

**Thank ya'll(:**

* * *

Darcy Harlex official badass head gamemaker

I smile at the gold nametag on the desk. My desk. It looks so amazing, though some diamonds would be a nice touch. Might request that next year, after I'm declared best gamemaker ever. I've got ideas and I have quite a few tributes (victims) who will provide quite the entertaining show.

**District One:**

Adrianna "Dre" Hendrix seems to be a pretty face but she's really a gang gal. She used her training to fight her way to the top just like she plans on doing in the Games. (LiveLaughLoveDance)

Marcel Fulgur is required to live up to his drunken father's Victor status. The stern serious eighteen year old does have a soft side for an extremely select few though.

**District Two:**

Edina Pond is your typical career, but at the tender age of thirteen does she have what it takes to win? Or will all the others underestimate her?

Leo Cestral doesn't speak much. But maybe thats a good thing. Any sane person wouldn't like what goes on in this seventeen year old's mind. (Sallen)

**District Three**

Phlox Whexl is the sweet petite dreamer...too bad her dreams aren't as sweet as she seems to be (district3girl)

Zeki Armadz is a wealthy prodigy who keeps his genius underwraps for fear the Capitol will exploit his inventions. This sixteen year old actually sells out his ideas on the black market. (Stop-IBegYou)

**District Four:**

December Lily is a laid back, almost lazy, girl with everything except her social life. She's quick to talk (a lot!), flirt, and laugh. Most things come naturally to her, but is survival one of them? (FreeToRun)

Garrett Chaser trained his whole life for the Games. It's been this bully's dream to kill his way to Victory. (Trapped in Narnia)

**District Five:**

Viryn Blackgate is a scarred sixteen year old. She doesn't speak unless spoken to and even then her replys are rather sarcastic. Can the Games be seen as an escape? (Trapped in Narnia)

Zingle Rise though this fourteen year old has been cursed with a bad immune system, he always tries to make life better for those around him. (The Awesome Novice Writer)

**District Six:**

Spencer Hunt is the unloved twin who puts long hours of training in every day of the week. This tomboy won't let anyone stop her! (Lilli Lupin Odair)

Theodore Wymann Jr. has been kicked out of the local military training academy so this eighteen year old has something to proove. (Lupus Overkill)

**District Seven:**

Bailey Keats, but just call her Keats, is a very level headed and calm...a normal tribute if that is even possible! This eighteen year old does have a decent shot though. (our little infinity)

Vali Hallvardr is the silent loner...not because he's awkward, he just doesn't like imposing on people. If you don't notice him, be sure he's watching you. (Disgraceful Avenger)

**District Eight:**

Angel Semifer is, well, an angel. Oozing charm and sweetness, everyone just adores her. Will it be enough to save this fourteen year old? (xSellsSwordx)

Nanashi Abeoden, age seventeen, is obnoxious, plus perverted, plus a jokester, plus slightly annoying. Did I mention he's bipolar too? The dude's a flippin' light switch! (Disgraceful Avenger)

**District Nine:**

Jae...hmm no last name for this fifteen year old girl. Coming from Nine, that always means a mysterious tribute. Mysterious always means an interesting case. (ImmyRose)

Kas Hille has four major personalities: kind, selfish, intelligent, and obsessive. Looking into the fourteen year olds strange eyes, you'd never be able to guess that he could handle it...or can he? (KnockingBells)

**District Ten:**

Nia Morgan is an extremely optimistic fifteen year old. She always tries to make people laugh and feel better...unfortunately that's not a great quality in the Games (Stop-IBegYou)

Frost Skylar is very immature for his age. The eighteen year old often lets his unslakable curiosity gets the better of him. But delaying the Reapings won't delay the inevitable. (The Awesome Novice Writer)

**District Eleven**

Piper Schotia is the last person you want in the Games. This poor tiny twelve year old is very childlike and can be quite annoying. (Sallen)

Carmichael Tiberiun is at first glance a huge man in control...he's really just a shy guy though. This seventeen year old doesn't like being judged or treated differently. (Conman418)

**District Twelve:**

Katana Valleria's dark appearance matches her dark past and her even darker personality. But this lil seventeen year old is a fighter through and through. (MidnightRaven323)

Guy Kilkenny will talk your head off and have a question for everything. This fifteen year old will be found either quite endearing or a complete pain in the butt, take your pick. (Yeolf530)

**District Thirteen:**

Asta Nacht is the creative dreamer who has the intelligence and logic to make things happen but only if she can build her confidence up enough. (Lupus Overkill)

Xavier Hatmel is a serious teen who's been brought up to become a peacekeeper. The Hunger Games is the best chance to show his skills. (Conman418)


	3. District 3 Reapings

**And I welcome y'all to District Three! Yes I can count and I know its out of order...deal with it(: I'd like to thank district3girl (perfectly enough...) and Stop-IBegYou for these fabulous tributes.**

* * *

**Phlox Whexl (age 15)**

I scribble my notes out as I listen to my teacher drone on about imaginary numbers. Yes, I'm in school on Reaping Day. Good ol' District Three, smartening up their kiddos to be technological robots. It's a rare half day because two of us are doomed.

Doomed. The word echoes in my mind. I look down at my pen, I don't need notes for this worthless information. I start doodling on my arm instead. Long twisting vines that look somewhat like blood vessels.

Blood will be shed within a week all because of the Games. I continue to trace the lines down to the back of my hand. My mind wanders...how will those kids react when their name is called out over the crowd? Will they be scared? Confident? Will the dude puke? That happened a few years back. It was actually kinda funny. I laugh out loud at the thought earning me some weird stares.

I shake my head gently and sink into my seat. No need to attract any more attention. I brush my annoying bangs out of my face.

I think about the odds of me being reaped. I have four...six...ten slips of paper in the giant glass bowl. Then I look around my class, each of them have at least that many, maybe even more. My chances are slim.

What if my blood was spilled though? I look down at my doodle covered arm. The single scarlet drop oozing around the pen point catches my eye. Entranced, I release the pressure of it and watch as the blood creates a small pool and runs down my arm.

**Zeki Armadz (age 16)**

"You know you want to..." Viku smirks. He knows I'm going to cave. How could I pass up a good opportunity like this?

"Fine..." I pretend to be just now agreeing. I had all my stuff packed last night anyways. I heft my backpack over my shoulder. "See ya after school!" I yell into my house. I'm sure my parents could hear me from the third floor. If they aren't too busy rolling in Capitol cash...

We walk in silence, the path almost second nature to my feet. After a quick stop by the bakery (hot apple turnovers, yum!), we pass the school building as all the kids are streaming in. Age wise, I should be there...intelligence wise...yea, no. After a couple turns, we reach our destination. The faded broken neon sign says "records" with these musical notes all around it. If you read between the lines it reads "illegal market enter if you dare". Not literally.

We push open the door and make our way to the back of the old store. I head straight to some of my past customers and start my pitch: "with this simple device, created by yours truly, all you do is push a button to disarm a single gun within a twenty foot radius..."

A small hand wraps into mine and a voice whispers "sounds dangerous" into my ear before soft lips kiss my cheek. I stutter and totally lose my place.

"Not dating, eh?" Viku elbows me. I look at my girlfriend Talia and return her smile.

"Yea uh sorta..." I mutter.

"Your 'rents gonna love her" he says, laying on thick sarcasm. Talia Qwas...daughter of my parent's biggest competition...good choice right? We met selling our inventions on market in attempt to spread the wealth (and make a little money myself). We have the same mindset and she's really cute. I couldn't help it!

I tune them both out and finalize my sale. I pocket the cash and we head out to the reapings.

**Phlox Whexl**

"Second Rebellion yada yada yada" the escort, a Ms Towne, gives us the history lesson of a week. By the way she looks and the way she accented the "Ms" I'm pretty sure that its really a man...

"Shall we begin with the females?" IT asks, rhetorically I'm sure. Without hesitation Ms Towne reaches an extremely manicured hand into the glass bowl.

"Alixe Capacitor," it pronounces.

I don't know the girl but before I truly think I'm shouting "I volunteer!" The blonde doesn't walk forward to accept her fate. I do.

I march up to the stage. If you really think about it, I have been trained. Not in the traditional sense of swords and spears but in knowledge. Knowledge and a little bit of creativity can get one far...

I've got plans. Plans that'll get of the arena alive...

I snap out of my thoughts to hear Ms Towne call my partner's name, "Zeki Armadz"

I know that name! It's the genius rich boy. Shocker really. I can spot his dark spiky hair before I see his lanky frame moving through the crowds.

He walks up and shakes my hand. He's deep in thought; I can see it in his brown eyes. He's plotting too I'm sure...should be interesting to see what that noggin comes up with.

**Zeki Armadz**

I sink into the leather couch. These might as well be my last goodbyes. I have to wonder if it was rigged. Plenty of people know that I jacked the system when my inventions should be going to the Capitol. But those same people are against the Capitol gaining power...

Talia walks right in, tears in her blue eyes. She immediately wraps her arms around me in the longest, tightest hug I've ever experienced. My shirt feels wet, but just feeling her is worth it. "I'm so so sorry...this is all my fault" she mutters.

I choke back my fears, "It's fine and no it's not"

She looks up at me, "Yea it is..." As much as I hate to admit it, I see truth on her face.

"Wha-?" I start.

The floodgates opened and she babbles, "You were competition. I turned in your name. I didn't think this would happen. I thought you'd just get threatened a bit. I didn't want to hurt you. But they the Games. It never I mean I want uh I"

I step back from her as quickly as humanly possible. She...betrayed...me? I Lo-La-I thought I Lo...I trusted her. With everything. But I was wrong.

"I'm sorry so so sor-"

"Shut up. Just shut it." I snap.

Talia leans in for a kiss, but I shove her away. I can't believe...but somehow I kind of can. It's a dog eat dog world, but still, Talia.

"Get out," I say. My voice is so dead sounding. She opens her mouth to protest then those gentle lying lips shut again. Her face is so hurt looking. I add, "Please, just leave me alone. I have enough to deal with right now." Like the Games and my impending demise.

* * *

**The tribute list has been updated. Still quite a few openings. I can't plan the actual games til I got 'em all.**

**Oh and S-IBY, I know that's probably not what you had in mind...sorry.**


	4. District 1 Reapings

**There is still a need for tributes if you would like to submit one. Also if you already have a tribute feel free *cough encouraged cough* to send in a bloodbath. The more early kills there are the longer your precious loved ones will last...**

**On a whole separate note, there has been a few questions about a sponsor system. The answer is no. I'm not a fan of giving up my goddess power. Reviews will not save your tribute but I do really listen to y'all's opinions on the various tributes and that can make a difference in their outcomes.**

**But anywhos, next stop District One! Thanks to creators LiveLaughLoveDance and xSellsSwordx for these tributes.**

* * *

**Adrianna Hendrix (age sixteen)**

"I'm off to the Center!" I yell as I open the front door.

"Wait just one second, young lady," my mom's voice echoes. Crap. Just what I wanted. I hesitate strongly considering leaving anyways. But that'll just cause more trouble later I'm sure.

I turn around with a sigh, "What?"

Mom walks in, floral dress swishing around her legs, "I was curious of what you were training with this morning..."

"Knives," I say quickly as I inch towards the door.

"I think you should practice your sword skills," she suggests. As if the woman ever touched a blade in her life

I roll my eyes, "Whatever," and leave with a satisfying slam of the door.

To the Center! Not. I detour from the road as soon as my house is out of sight. I take a shortcut through an abandoned building. It's a really stupid choice 'cause I'm by myself but I was already late and my oh so precious mother didn't exactly help. Anyways, I'm pretty darn sure I can save myself. I walk right past two dudes fighting over what appears to be a bag of rice. I assess the scene. The blood splattered everywhere doesn't seem to be a good omen. So I just walk on by.

I finally reach my HQ and kick down the door. I don't like what I'm greeted with.

All of my Flyers are yelling sat each other banging their fists on the map. "We need to demolish them!"

"You can't just insult us like that and expect to get away with it!" Kenton agrees.

"We need a plan..." Maddie tries to reason.

"To hell with a plan! Element of surprise!" Nicole screeches, pulling a knife out of the drawer.

"Ladies, ladies!" I yell and they instantly shut up. "What's goin' on here?"

Maddie answers for the group, "One of the Jets told Kenton that she was a princess and she should be in a kitchen, not fighting on the streets."

Ah, the Jets. Why am I not surprised? Oh right, because their gang is one of our biggest competitions! And as my Flyers are obviously all female, we don't take to sexist jokes too well. I don't see why we're looked down on. Really, nothing is scarier than a gang of trained girls on their periods.

I purse my lips and think out loud, "Well, of course they are going down for this. Once and for all."

"But a plan, Dre?" Maddie asks.

"Of course," I confirm, "we plot after the reaping." A grin lights up on all of my girls' faces. It's gonna be war.

We make our way to the reaping, chattering and laughing about nonsense stuff girls usually chatter about. We get a short lecture from a peacekeeper for our tardiness. Late one day and it's the end of the world, but going around killing people is nothing.

Our lame escort tries to embrace District One's "luxury" with an extremely shiny outfit. I'd hate to see that in direct sunlight. "And for our female tribute," she digs in the glass bowl, "Adrianna Hendrix!"

"Oh my gosh Dre!" Nicole gasps, "that's you"

I don't say anything. I can't. I just walk up. I never expected it to be me. I choke but keep a straight face.

I hear applause, "That's mah baby girl! A future Victor!" my dad shouts. I fight the urge to puke. That's sick.

I look at my family, my real family. Each Flyer has tears in her eyes but thankfully all of them have the dignity to not show weakness. They'll have to fight on their own. I have a new battle to overcome: the Games.

**Marcel Fulgur (age eighteen)**

I slide the plate loaded with eggs and bacon down to Corin. My little brother mumbles his thanks without lifting his head. That's unlike him. I lean across the counter and brush his shaggy light brown hair-the same color as Mom's-out of his face, revealing a swollen black eye. It's not as bad as some I've received during training, but this is Corin. He's the kid who doesn't usually have to argue 'cause he'll just charm his way into anyone's heart.

I raise an eyebrow, "Who did it?"

"If ya think this is bad, you should see the other guy!" he chirps, pointing to his eye. I snort a laugh and stare the kid down. Corin lowered his head, "Gage was saying bad things..."

I sit down next to him, "What kind of things?"

His good blue eye tears up but he quickly wipes it. I pretend I didn't see it. "He said that Mom killed herself cause Dad's an abusive druggie..."

I cut him off quick, "Don't listen to idiots that don't know the truth." Well, the full truth anyways. Dad is wasting Victor money on alcohol and drugs but he isn't abusive. Yet. If he was, I'd make sure we were far from this house. I playfully punch my brother in the arm, "You know better than that."

A smile brightens the kid's face. "Kenneth beat him up into a pulp after he heard what happened!" I feel the corners of my mouth pull upwards; it's such a weird feeling most of the time. I know my friend will always be there. And by Panem, I'm glad for that. Corin continues his story repeating each cuss word inappropriate insult. It's odd hearing such a bubbly young voice talking about violence like that. Welcome to District One, I guess.

"It's your first reaping," I start.

"And your last!" Corin stuck his tongue out at me, then his face softened, "I'm glad you're here with me, though you could easily whoop ass." I feel like I just got stabbed.

"Right," I say quickly, "lets just go."

We take the main roads. I'm not taking any shortcuts around here, especially with Corin. My eyes still constantly scan each ally we pass. It's a dangerous city and most people are trained to kill, not that they usually do. More often its a well positioned knife driven through your neck, missing the main artery. From what I hear, it's pretty painful. People are desperate for money and food. They'll do whatever it takes to survive.

We reach the city's main square without event and I shoo Corin off towards the other twelve year olds and saunter towards Kenneth who's lazily leaning on a pole near the front of the group. "Got us a good spot, yup," he laughs softly.

"Nice," I reply as I position myself for quick access to the stage. I look at the many Victors up there and lock eyes with my father. He better keep his word, that's all I'm saying.

The Capitol lady starts up her speech, but I highly doubt anyone is truly listening. The Games are something that doesn't affect most of the people here. Except for me.

"All that...glitter..." Kenneth whispers, nodding his head towards the escorts legs. The sunlight catches it just right and you can't help but to stare. He continues, "looks like its pouring from her puss"

"Ok!" I interrupt, not needing that mind picture. I turn to my friend, "Promise me something."

"You're doing it, aren't cha?" he asks, but it's not a question. In the background I can hear the Capitol accent calling a name and faint applause.

"You know I have too. Watch out for Corin. Keep him safe," I whisper. I know I don't have to even bother asking, Kenneth would do it regardless. He doesn't seem like a stable dude, and he's not, but he'll do anything to protect and provide for my brother.

"Really?" he laughs, "I'm hurt that cha doubting me." He punches my arm, "Go kick ass"

"And for our gentleman," the escort calls.

"I volunteer!" I shout and quickly march up the creaky wooden stairs, "Marcel Fulgur"

The one glimpse I catch of Corin breaks my heart. It's all to protect him though. I look away quickly and shake the hand of the girl next to me, my new district partner.


	5. District 7 Reapings

**So all spots are officially filled! Thank y'all. I wasn't able to use all the tributes I received though. I've got scenes playing in my head...**

**Sorry for delay but here is District Seven! Tributes today are brought to you by xDisgraceful Avengerx and our little infinity. **

* * *

**Vali Hallvardr (age fifteen) **

"What's the worse that could happen?" some kid in front of me mutters. I can't help but think that that's the worst rhetorical question one could ask. It's practically tempting fate! You shouldn't be asking that on this day of all cursed days either.

I roll my eyes at the chatter around me as we wait for this show to get on the road. Heh. Didn't think of how literal my thought was. Show. That's all the Hunger Games are to lot of people, especially Capitolians.

But the lack of involvement is here in the district also. It only effects two teens a year and then their families when they have the funeral a month later of course. It's been about twelve years since Seven had a Victor. We have tributes make it far, bur never final two.

Maybe that can change this year. I scan the crowds around me and snort with slight laughter. Yeah, no. We don't stand much of a chance at all against any career. I listen to the aimless talking around me. Some are just trying to pass the time; other's just run at the mouth to seem tough. The nervous energy is undeniable though.

Oh well. At least I don't have to waste every daylight hour doing odd jobs to keep out of trouble. Its one thing I've learned: the busier you are the less chance you have of getting on the peacekeeper's bad side.

The gray uniformed men are closing in around us as the ceremony is about to begin. My gaze can't help but lock onto those guns, shining even in this dreary weather. Why is it the corrupt people in power? It's not fair! I can almost hear my mom say something along the lines of "life isn't fair, but that's what makes us stronger." I really wish that was true. But whatever; I'm not in control.

If I had an ounce of power, I'd change a lot of things. The Hunger Games would be the first to go. They're just-I don't know how to say it-immoral. I shouldn't even be thinking like this. For all I know, the Capitol can have mind reading machines! While that sounds awesome, it's pretty creepy too. It's so much safer to just lay low.

I watch as the golden limo's door swings open and a man in a tux steps out. He flips his hair and struts towards the stage. Our District's escort waves towards the camera, completely ignoring all of the people assembled. Not that it matters really. Most haven't even noticed him yet.

He answers an interviewers questions about how he plans to push his tributes (heck, does he even have say in that kind of stuff?). I can't help but feel horrible for the two "lucky representitives of the great lumber district".

I've got an awful feeling about this year's Game.

**Bailey Keats (age eighteen) **

I wake up at the crack of dawn but don't force myself off the thin lumpy mattress. Believe it or not, I'm actually pretty comfortable just lying here listening to the sprinkle of rain on the tin roof. Sure beats trying to find shelter out in the woods or on the streets. My heart sinks at that prospect.

My brain is way too active to fall back to sleep. I sit up and make sure all the other girls are asleep still. I creep out of bed and slide the mattress over. Pushing ever so slightly on the wood floor, I raise a plank and reach inside praying not to find a mouse. After feeling around a moment I find what I'm looking for and pull out a grungy sock. I'm going to wash that when I have the chance. I dump its contents out on my mattress and slowly count.

You'd think that after spending every spare hour out in the forest and saving almost every cent would give me more money then this. I sigh and try to calculate in my head. I'll be able to buy enough food for a few months, and maybe a new outfit as my clothes are quite old and worn. But I can't get a small shack for this and still have enough left to survive!

Logically, it'd be quite stupid to leave the orphanage. I have plenty of food, a roof over my head, and protection. But I'm too old now. My birthday was three weeks ago; I was supposed to leave then, but Mrs O'Cread appreciates my help. But I know I've overstayed my welcome. I would've left today, but as it's the "holiday" of Reaping Day I wouldn't have done well.

The younger girls start to stir and I quickly hide my secret stash back in it's spot. Guess it's time to get up and going. After helping tie hair bows (a rare luxury) and eating a quick breakfast, I make my way out into the wet streets.

"Yo, Keats!"" a familiar voice yells after me.

"Hey loser," I laugh softly as I wait for Kenton Burgess to catch up to me.

"Guess what I found?"

"Um...a quiet minute at your house?" I ask seriously. It's the running Seven joke that the Burgess family almost rivals the orphanage in the number of kids. I'm there often, and I swear I haven't met all of Kenton's siblings yet.

"I wish," he mutters, "but no. I found something better!" My eyes pop open at that. He's always griping about the lack of peace. His blue eyes brighten, "I found an opening for two jobs at the paper mill on Main Street. They pay a ton better than forest work..." he drones on about the perks. That would be amazing for the both of us.

Unfortunately, we need to split up once we get the the Reaping. I wave to the boy as I go stand with the other eighteen year old girls. There is an eerie dread in the air but there's also this strange joy. This will be our last reaping.

Our escort introduces himself as Derrick Hart. Wow...he looks...normal. Well, as normal as Capitol can be I suppose. His brown hair, pale skin, and shining green eyes capture my attention more than any flamboyant neon features can. He gives his speech.

"And for our wonderful lady representative..." he announces airily. Derrick's hand digs around in the bowl. The eighteen year old section holds a collective breath. This is it. This is the end. We will never have the stress of watching the escort potentially draw our names again...

"Ms Bailey Keats!" the way he says my name sends shivers down my spine. Wait a second...my name...

Show no fear. Make a strong impression. I walk up with every once of confidence I can muster.

"Ah, Bailey," the escort breathes out as he says my name.

I try to ignore the obvious fact that he's looking up and down my body as I shake my head and correct him, "Just Keats."

"Alright then just Keats," he winks at me, "Let's find out who your lucky district partner is, shall we?"

Derrick Hart finally takes his eyes off me and struts to the other glass bowl.  
"Vali Hallvardr" he stumbles over the name with a whole lot less enthusiasm. In fact, I'm almost positive he mispronounced it. Who wouldn't with a mouthful of letters like that?

A thin lanky boy-he's far from a man-makes his way towards the stage. No one in the crowd reacts, and neither does Vali. The fifteen year old calmly walks up, a small smile playing in the corners of his lips. I can't tell if he's confident, scared, or just indifferent.

As tradition predicts, I reach out and shake my new enemy's these Games make me...kill...him? Or anyone else? Can I even make myself do it? My internal need to survive starts tugging at my heart already.

* * *

**Sorry if my reapings seem uneven in length compared to each other. Some tributes just lend themselves to better intro chapters than others. Everyone does get Capitol time though; your tribute will not be forgotten by me(:**


	6. District 12 Reapings

**Ah dear District Twelve...Yelof530 and MidnightRaven323 are to be thanked for these lovelies.**

* * *

**Kantana Valleria (age seventeen)**

"Awww ain't that cute?" an almost venomous voice echoes. I sit upright immediately. Oh. My. Gosh. I was asleep on...ewwwww.

"What the hell," Seth murmurs as he ruffles his black hair. Then he looks slyly at me. "Did we just...?"

"In your dreams maybe," I snap at him as I punch him. Just the thought of me with Seth is ew. For starters, he's a player but more importantly he's my best friend for crying out loud.

The boy grins, catches my wrist and twists my arm behind my back.

"Round six of this week. Ding ding ding!" yells Warren in his best announcer voice. You've got to be kidding me.

"I'm in the lead, right?" Seth grunts as he flips me over the couch. I'm going easy on him for once.

"Nice try, but nope. Tana's got your ass whooped 3-2."

"And I'm keeping my lead!" I spit, using the momentum to swing my leg around and nail him in the head.

The door opens and someone else strolls in. He assesses the stumbles from the blow, but doesn't give up his grip. He punches me in the gut, sufficiently knocking the breath out of me. Tae speaks up finally, "Five bucks on Seth."

Warren laughs, "You cray? I feel like I'll be stealing your money!" I know for a fact that Seth will never intentionally seriously hurt me, and I'd like to say that I don't mean badly when I put all my might into an attack.

"Wanna bet or not?" Tae pushes.

"I'm in."

Seth uses his slight advantage of me gasping for breath to comment, "Won't let you down Tae!"

That's my moment. I whip a knife outta my boot, knock Seth to the ground and gently lie the blade on his neck.

"Cheater!" Tae automatically objects.

"Sore loser," I stick my tongue out at him and help Seth to his feet.

He hugs me and whispers, "Nice one actually." For as bad as our fighting looks, the bruises are just signs of our weird friendship.

"Cough up," Warren mutters, holding his hand out for the cash. Tae sighs and carefully counts the money, paying with the smallest coins possible. "Jerk"

**Guy Kilkenny (age fifteen)**

"...And that is why none of us is going to have a chance!" I conclude my long debate.

"Hey," Jairo walks up, just catching the end, "talking bout the Games?"

"Believe it or not, considering the day, I was actually talkin' bout that spelling bee tomorrow," I explain, "Oh wait, I forgot, you're too that sorry."

Sveta and Tevin nod their agreement. Neither of them speak much. At least Sveta has an excuse, with that smashed jaw and what. She's lucky. She won't publicly embarrass herself misspelling a seemingly easy word. That would be me I'm sure.

"Yea, right," Jairo smirks, his eyes trailing the younger girls.

"Jairo, Jairo!" I snap my fingers in front of his face, "You better not be checking out my sister again. Bro code, man, bro code!" The older guy pays attention and sulks off to his section. "That's not cool, right?" I turn to Tevin and Sveta, "Gretchen with him?" They nod their agreement, "Ok good, making sure I'm not completely unreasonable. Ugh, can you picture the two of them together. Like, together together? That would be gross, beyond-"

Something splats my shoulder, I turn to Sveta cause that's how she gets my attention. Nope, not Sveta. Bird shit. "You gotta be kidding me," I groan, "why is it always me?"

Sveta really pokes me this time. Now that I'm thinking of it, why is she hanging in the guys section? Anyways though, she points to the stage where the Capitol chick is drawing the girl's name.

I don't have time to hope not Sveta, not Gretchen. "Kantana Valleria!" is called. I sigh with relief. It's not someone important to me.

A dark haired girl struts to the stage. You know those kinda people thar just scream get out of my way without saying a word? Yeah, she's one of those people. Maybe she'll stand a shot.

The Capitol lady beams at her and then moves on. "And our guy is, well, Guy. Guy Kilkenny?" she beckons.

"Oh hey that's me!" I feel the words leave my lips. My heart is like going all double bass in my gut. "Well that's not good, now is it?"

"Its a wonderful honor to represent this, um," she stumbles to find a good word, "delightful district."

"Yea...I'm going to die. I don't have a prayer. At least I've had a chance to live awhile." I rub my face, trying to get any sweat off. A dawn of realization hits me. "Oh crap! I'm gonna die before I grow a decent mustache!"

The crowd murmurs with nervous laughter. Hey I'm completely serious here! Jairo always said that the value of one's manhood is based solely on one's facial hair. And I have failed. Hey look a camera in my face. Maybe the Capitol's high definition televisions will be good enough to pick up my shadow of blonde hair. Does that count?

Wait. Camera. Television. Oh my gosh I'm on tv! I'm on tv with bird poop on my shoulder. Niiiice. Maybe Capitolians will think its a new fashion trend and it'll become popular? Those people are kinda weird...

I stumble up to the stage and even though that Kantana chicky's hair covers her eyes I can still feel her contemptuous glare. "Your sneer is obvious proof that you wanna ally up!" I laugh, hoping she gets sarcasm.

Her teeth shut with an audible click, "Oh most definitely. I can totally see me and a pathetic guy making it to the end together." She smiles and doesn't look quite as harsh. For the first time, I feel my hope lifting ever so slightly. Oh wait, she was being condescending... Crash whoosh. Hope destroyed again.


	7. District 2 Reapings

**"Mwahahaha they have no attention or time with holiday breaks coming up, let's pile on tons of homework and assignments in addition to finals!" quote each and every one of my teachers.**

**And now, District Two. Tributes are courtesy of Keb85 and Sallen.**

* * *

**Edina Pond (Pond. I adore that last name. Well, It's fantastic really) age thirteen**

I gaze at the little portrait in my locket, my mind wandering to what could've been. A day doesn't go by without me thinking about it. But I snap the necklace shut before I get too carried away.

The past needs to be kept in the past. Its stupid to let it distract me now. I've got more important things to worry about.

I look down at my little brother, Mel, and decide to let him sleep. I take an extra blanket from the closet and toss it on him. Poor thing was screaming all night. Kept me awake too, not that he'd notice.

"He ok?" a groggy voice calls from the dining room.

I shut the door behind me as not to wake Mel up. "Seems to be, Papa," I beam up at the old man. I sit down at the table across from him as Sara the maid brings in breakfast. Burning time, I strike up the common conversation, "Reaping Day?"

My grandfather's green eyes darken slightly as he says gruffly, "This is my year."

I almost spew my milk out my mouth at the news, "Thought Ty was mentor this year..." A mental image of the extremely muscular, very dreamy Victor pops into my mind.

Papa shakes his head, "Nah, poor kid caught mono or something. Stupid Capitol sluts..."

I tune him out. Ty not the mentor? That's rather disappointing. He was one of the perks to volunteering this year. I'd have to get the guts to talk to him!

"So...you're mentoring?" I interrupt his monologue about something or another.

"Isn't that what I said?" the old man laughs gently.

My lips pout as I ponder this information. "So you'd work extra hard to get me sponsor money?" I ask as innocently as possible.

Papa just stares at me, then bellows, "Absolutely not, young lady! You are far from ready!"

My eyes water up with fake tears, "But Papa..."

His face softens but his tone is still stern, "Give it a few years. Let someone older and more experienced have the honor this time."

"But," I start.

"But no," he interrupts, "No buts or ifs about it." I open my mouth to speak, but he continues, "Its for your own good, Edina, just trust me

**Leo Cestral (age seventeen)**

"Yea no worries ladies, I'll enjoy my time in the Capitol and be home soon," Gus Travis assures his swooning fan club. Idiots all of them.

Gus has been bragging for who knows how long that he was volunteering this year. Too bad he's gonna look like fool; it's my time. I've been planning this for almost ten years, over half of my life had been consumed with the thought of the Games.

I slowly put most of the knives into the supply closet, biding my time. It's not long before the training center clears out; everyone is way too excited about the reapings to put too much energy into refining combat skills. Coach Carst slams the heavy door shut and I saunter off to the guy's locker room, which-surprise, surprise-is nearly empty. There's just one person left. And Gus is preoccupied with combing some gel into his hair. Looks like a greasy rat if you ask me.

"Getting ready for your shining moment?" I scoff.

He turns around, startled. Really if the moron couldn't hear me approaching in a locker room, there's no way he'd survive past the career alliance break up. Can you say stabbed in the back? He answers, "Of course, but I'll be back soon. Just congratulate me then."

I literally laugh out loud. The dude is crazy. "You're wrong."

Gus doesn't even bother looking up, "Are you doubting my ability?" His fists clench.

"Not at all," I mock him, "Just doubting your chances."

He stares me down, "What's that supposed to me-" I cut off his words with a punch in the face. He stumbles back but pounces the next second. I dodge a hit and use all my weight to tackle him into the wall.

I wasn't expecting the knee to the stomach. I double over but still maintain my advantage. "You're gonna regret that!" I spit at the boy. Then I fulfil my plan.

I take one of the tool knives I'd stashed in my pocket and whip it open. I jab it into Gus' open palm stabbing straight through and pinning him to the wall. His yell echoes in the empty room. He tries to rip free, but that just causes blood to pour.

His eyes widen at the red dripping from his body. "What?" I taunt, "Ooo scwared of a lil bwood?" Gus kicks me in the knee.

I take another knife and drive not through his other hand, securely pinning him to the wall. Then I shut up his scream by bashing the back of his head into the wall a few times. Losing consciousness, he slumps. I watch the knife remaining stuck in the wall. The boy rips his own skin to shreds as he falls and faceplants on the tile floor.

That was easier than I thought it'd be. I can just imagine how simple the Games will be. I just got to make it to the Reaping in time.

I dash through the empty streets. That...ordeal...took longer than I anticipated. I reach the city center just in time to see the stampede of girls trying to fight their way to the stage. Our District once tried to do trials so that only the strongest could volunteer. The Capitol outlawed it after that first year. Apparently it's much more entertaining for them to see kids fight their way to the stage in mad chaos then to have someone just raise their hand.

A thin short girl weaves her way to the top of the steps. The escort doesn't even notice her. She coughs dramatically a couple times, much to the annoyance of one of the older Victors. The escort finally notices and chirps, "Oh, and who do we have here?"

"Edina Pond!" the kid squeels. Oh gosh why. My District partner is really young. Like I'm not sure when the last time we had such a little kid from Two.

"Well, congratulations Ms. Pond!" and then the escort says the words I've been waiting for: "And for our male tribute..."

Everyone hesitiates. Coach Carst and Gus made it quite clear who was expected to have the honor this year. Hmmm, you hear that sound? The sound of Gus Travis volunteering? Nope, me either.

I laugh as I saunter up to the front. Oooh your petty little girl glares are really going to deter me. "Leo Castral," I introduce myself to the escort, the entire District, and my new Capitol sponsers.


	8. District 5 Reapings

**So I planned on having this out around Christmas...and then I got all the extended Lord of the Rings, six series of the Doctor, and Mark of Athena. Can you blame me for delay? Sincerely sorry though!**

**District Five, coming at ya! Thanks to Trapped In Narnia and The Awesome Novice Writer.**

* * *

**Zingle Rise (age fourteen)**

"So how much you wanna bet that one of the Reynolds' kids are gonna get reaped?" Bentley laughs nervously, trying to break that awkward 'someone is doomed, really hope it's not me' silence.

Its kinda mean, but I go right with the conversation, "At least 20% chance. They each take like six or seven tesserae a year." I add that up quickly in my mind. "The oldest has to have about fifty six!"

Bentley lets out a low whistle. Then his face scrunches up and he lets out a horrendous spluttering cough. Oh thank God, he covered his mouth. No offense, but germs are eww. Bentley examines the inside of his elbow carefully, "Yup no blood. I'm good!"

He says it so casually. It's gross really. I encourage, "Well that's great! I'd hate for my only friend to die on the spot!"

He laughs knowing its a joke. But I was serious too. Is it possible to joke and be serious at the same time? Joking serious? Seriously joking?

"Dude, you have to speak at my funeral! And make it classy!"

I jump up on the curb and try to look official, sweeping my arms dramatically. That's what the Capitol people do. "Heres-eth lies-eth my best friend Mr Bentley Tinder. He was-eth a gentleman of highest esteem..." Oh god, what if he really keeled over? I mean, it is possible. Statistically, one out of every one person dies eventually. Morbid. Not as morbid as violent murders in a reality tv show that everyone's forced to watch, but you know what I mean.

"Shall we go to the Reaping?" a cheesy Capitol accent pulls me to reality.

"Indeed, I believe it is mandatory," I mock how the escort usually talks. Then I switch back into my voice, "Let's waste our whole day off of school listening to the same speech we hear every year!"

"Yay!" Bentley groans.

"Is that sarcasm I dectect?"

"No, not at all."

"By order of the Highest Capitol ruling, you'll be sent to jail for having that attitude!"

A peacekeeper blocks our path, "And what have you two been doing?" Oh snap. We are going to jail, legit yo. Than maybe even execution for treason! Doomed at age fourteen. I haven't had a chance to live!

"Oh you know, the usual," Bentley starts. Oh crap. He's going to go all sarcastic 'we just commited multiple homicides and started a revolution' I know it! Dead! Dead! We are so screwed. My friend continues, "Headed to the Reapings?" oh he's doing fine. Just fine. "You know, that thing you're directing traffic for..." oh crap! Insulting a peacekeeper. Doomed again!

"Very well," the man barks, "get a goin' then!"

I don't hesitate. I grab Bentley by the arm and yank him into the crowds of teens.

**Viryn Blackgate (age sixteen)**

Escape...now...the whispered voice caresses. I try to reason with it, but I know its right.

Other things come into focus. Like that opened hand hurtling towards me. It seems so slow. I brace myself for the blow.

The voice yells at me: Escape! Now! I have to listen.

I dodge the hit instead. And then I run. I run out of the room. I run out the front door. I run down the street. I can hear the angry yells behind me. But I keep running. I run to escape.

I skid to a stop. And just in time too. Those big orange signs don't say 'caution' for no reason. Here in District Five, some areas are hazardous to your health due too many chemical explosions and not enough safety requirements and procedures. An old man hobbles from behind the restricted area. "Keep back, girly," his gravely voice coughs. It sounds like it hurts to even speak.

He turns where I can see his face. And I immediately wish I hadn't. The whole left side was a sickly purple-pink. Little bubbles ooze from the many sores. A green booger-like substance drips from his pale, watery eye. I gasp. I know it's rude, but I can't help it.

It's common to see people walking around with their skin fried half off. It's a gruesome sight no matter how many times you witness it. I shudder and mumble an excuse about being late for the Reaping and dash away as quick as my legs will carry me.

I quickly sign join the masses of teens. I weave my way through, careful not to touch anyone. I don't want to be here. I can almost feel everyone breathing around me. It's disturbing. I can't stand here. Get away. Fresh air. Get away from all these people.

I shift my weight uneasily from one foot to the other. Focus. Breathe. It feels like everyone is moving in, crowding together, cutting off all paths. There is no escape. I'm trapped.

A loud voice booms over the all. It echoes, seemingly bouncing off the building walls surrounding the plaza. All other noise slumbers. Inhale. Exhale. Listen.

"The districts were crushed for their crimes..." it buzzes in my head "After the Second Rebellion, punishment was swift...Hunger Games...fight to the death...it was the only just path..."

"Who shall represent District Five?" the voice asks.

I don't even here what name is called. She's doomed. "Do we have a volunteer?"

Those words. They are so strange. I have no idea the last time that happened. Volunteer.

It's an escape, a true escape or maybe it's just a death trap. My eyes scan all the people assembled. No one has fat hiding their bones. No one has a glint of hope in their watery eyes. No one has a chance. It has to be better than this.

Volunteer the word repeats in my mind. Volunteer. Volunteer. Volun-

I stare defiantly at the stage and its occupents. "I volunteer!"

The whole world stops moving. People stop breathing. Everything just plain stops in awe of my voice calling those words.

A direct path to the stage, an escape, opens for me. I don't hesitate for a second. One step, then another towards my destination.

The other girl scurries away from what fate had originally been doomed to her. I take her place. "I am Viryn Blackgate," I say, looking straight into the camera, "I am the new tribute."

The shock hasn't settled yet, but the escort, a bigger lady with hair like fire, continues on, "Oh simply brilliant! Now to join Ms Blackgate..." she plucks the first slip of paper her fat hand touches. "Zingle Rise!"

A shakey teen comes into view. His red skin is peeling as if he has a bad sunburn, but I'm pretty sure that that's not the case. We're in a freaking city. Little sun here. He's not going to last long. I feel bad for saying it...but not really. Zingle is one less competitor in the game of life...or is it death?


	9. District 13 Reapings

**Today's tributes are brought to you by Lupus Overkill and Conman418. And I welcome y'all to District Thirteen!**

* * *

**Asta Nacht (age eighteen)**

_"When you do something bad, you get in trouble. A long time ago the Districts were bad. Do you know what they did? They fired guns on the Capitol. The Capitol was nice and the District's best friend" A.A. Washbourne, History Stories for the Young Child: Official Kindergarten Textbook. The Capitol: Education Publishers._

_From a young age we are spoon fed information that glorified the Capitol. But who publishes this propaganda? Yes, the mighty Capitol itself. In their most recent pamphlet for 'required reading', The District's Debt, clearly states on page seventeen that "In the most recent pitiful attempt at so called revolution (which in itself was idiotic as the Districts are well represented and provided for by the government) all the districts-except Two-were extremely misinformed and led astray by the Rebel Alliance headed by District Thirteen and The Mockingjay. Luckily for the Districts they realized their mistake and by the Capitol's good grace they were brought to redemption. It is only just and fair that they must repay in a minuscule way for the damage and death that they caused..."_

_Is it really quote "just and fair" that the Capitol should tax us beyond belief leaving us in near poverty, force our children to fight for their lives in the so-called entertaining Hunger Games, and provide jobs that they themselves are frightened to do as they risk our lives?_

I lean back and look at my writing, chewing on the end of my pencil. The quotes really make it look more reliable. If one would only think a little bit about how the Capitol effects them and how we as human beings should be treated, we could make progress. But alas, no. We are too caught up in our short everyday lives.

I look at the clock. The large red digital numbers projected on the wall reads 0324. That gives me less than four hours until the wake up call goes off. Though I'm exhausted, there's no way I'll be able to sleep. I just know I'm going to be lectured at work about the dark circles under my eyes; it's not my fault that my pale skin makes it prominent. I can hear the demanding voice now: "this job is an honor. Not many people your age get to work with the nuclear research department. Lack of attentiveness is a hazard..." I cringe at the thought of being called out about something like that.

I clear my mind and reread my writing. I know I'm right. I slowly pick up my pencil again and scribble all over the page. Long vertical lines are followed by horizontal zigzags. Then I crosshatch over it at each diagonal. I hold the papers up to the light to make sure its unreadable. Perfect.

I rip it in half. Then in half again and again and again. I shred it until there's no piece bigger than half an inch. Then I do a dangerous thing. I open a drawer of my metal desk and pull out a precious rarity: a match.

I brush the paper pieces into a small pile and go to find a large glass bowl. I count to three...twice before striking that match. The small flicker of orange flame mesmerizes me and I throw it on the pile and quickly place the bowl face down over it all pressing down to trap it in. Smoke and fire are dangerous things. There's no escape from the winding underground tunnels of Thirteen. We'd burn, buried alive. Plus, if I'm caught with this I can kiss my short life goodbye. The paper burns and then the fire splutters out due to lack of oxygen. Regardless, I wait a good moment before lifting the bowl and brushing away the dust.

All evidence of my so-called rebellious writing is now gone.

**Xavier Hatmel (age eighteen)**

I set down the weights right before the wake up call blares over the loud speaker. As the siren wails, the florescent automatic lights slowly flicker on. Moments later, the heavy doors swing open and several guys enter the gym and scatter to the various equipment.

Zecharia shakes his head at me, "Trying to get ahead of the competition, eh? You know, we have like three weeks until the draft, right?"

"Yup, Sargent Harken yelled it at us enough," I reply.

"What do you think the odds are if becoming an officer?" he mutters as he sets up equipment.

I swear, we have this conversation at least twice a week. We all want to become a peacekeeper. It's a great, well-paying job with the chance to travel and get away from this dump. I think I'd like to go to District Eleven. It's the complete opposite of this place. I let Zecharia ramble on. Opening his big mouth is one of his few talents.

I add more weight and start another rep making most of my limited free time. At 0730, the intercom beeps twice signalling breakfast time. Everyone trickles out of the gym and merges into the line of people headed down the hall towards the cafeteria. I catch small tidbits of whispered conversation. No one dares speak louder than that.

I grab a tray and watch as solemn ladies ladle on the standard morning fare of cement colored oatmeal and a slab of what is called "protein". Rumor has it that it's some combination of various meats. I don't know though. I reach for a glass of blue drink, but one of the cafeteria ladies stop me.

"Here," she says handing me a foam cup of coffee and an big red apple, "A great gift from the Capitol for Reaping Day."

I mutter my thanks, slide onto an empty bench, and slowly sip the hot drink. The warmth fills my whole body. I toss the apple gently, debating on saving it for later. But the gaurd at the door catches my eye...yeah, I don't want to risk the fruit getting confiscated. So I sink my teeth into the apple, savoring the taste and crunch.

Someone slides in next to me, really close. There's a difference between close and really close. And she is really close. "Hey Xavier," Lyssa stretches each syllable of my name annoyingly.

"Yes?"

"Whatchoo doooin' after the Reapings?"

You mean if I don't volunteer? I answer, "We have the afternoon free still?"

"Mmhmmm," Lyssa nods rapidly, her brown hair flying everywhere, smacking me in the face might I add. "From 1300 til 1600. Then we gotta report to our bunker to watch the Reapings on television." She pauses, then noticing I wasn't going to comment, Alyssa continues, "I was thinking that maybe we could hang out..." her tone sounds like a question.

"Can't," I reply simply.

Lyssa pouts, "And whyy not?"

"The firing range is open; I'd like to get some practice in."

"You alwayyysssss train, you should get a life."

"I'm working to make my life better."

"Peacekeeper shmeacekeeper"

That's not the only point for training. There's other, more risky paths I can take. One that will definitely proove my worth and value.

**Asta Nacht**

I don't feel too tired after my sleepless night. But even so I'm glad that this "National Holiday" shuts down my department today. I don't exactly feel like inadvertently exposing myself to radiation.

I mingle with the crowd of teenage girls. It's easy to classify each common Thirteen stereotype. There's the military trainees standing rigidly. They are most likely to become peacekeepers and leave this place, only to be forced to return when they are old. Then there are the smart ones who work in the labs or desk jobs. They are generally scrawnier like myself. Then there are the "rebels". I resist the urge to roll my eyes. They mark their assigned uniforms with the sign of the Mockingjay. They are stupid and worthless. They will never make a difference. All of them will spend their days in jail (if not executed for that matter!) if they put a foot out of line. While I applaud their boldness, I cringe at their lack of knowledge. There is no plan and no chance.

An escort steps up and welcomes us to "The Just Control-Keeping Games"...I mean the Hunger Games. He talks about how we from Thirteen especially deserve this for our past involvement in the Rebellion. And I am sure that most of the people around me believe him full-heartedly. Capitol logic seems infallible as it is the only thing we know.

"Who shall represent us?" he announces. I like his misuse of 'us'. We almost always have a volunteer. Everyone looks for a way out of this underground prison.

There is a moments pause. Last chance. I've put much thought and plotting into this. I can't back down now.

I can do this. I can do this. I chant in my head as I march triumphantly (so I hope it appears anyways) to the stage. "Your name, miss?" our escort asks. I'm not sure if it is my imagination, but he appears disappointed that a military trainee didn't offer their services towards the Games.

"I am Asta Nacht" I say. I've never felt so awkward in my life.

Lucky for me, the escort keeps things moving. Mayor Shepard told him we were on a strict time schedule, I'm sure. "And for our male tribute?"

A tall man makes his way to the stage. Now there's the desired tribute. It's obvious by the shaved head and bulking muscles that he has trained. "And I'm Xavier Hatmel," he says gruffly, shaking my hand without being prompted to.

I feel his firm grip on my hand and feel my gut rise to my throat. If this is a Thirteen tribute, what would the careers look like? Could I defeat someone like this? I have my reasons for volunteering. I have many. Its an opportunity to express my views with both publicity...and maybe, if I'm extremely lucky, a chance to keep my life.


	10. District 10 Reapings

**I am sorry for being a sucky updater. I don't have the time that I'd like to put into this story. Here's to District Ten! Thanks to Stop-IBegYou and The Awesome Novice Writer.**

* * *

**Frost Skylar (age eighteen)**

"Can I touch them? Please?" I ask

Bailey looks up at me with large wide eyes and bites her lip, "What if it hurts?"

"Oh com'on it wont hurt 'em, you big baby!" I reassure her. Actually, I have no idea whatsoever. "People have been doing it for years!"

She doesn't look convinced, but she caves. "Fine." I reach out eagerly but she slaps my hands. "Be gentle!"

"Yes ma'am!" I stick my tongue out at her and make a face. Then I proceed to reach down into the wood crate. The furry little thingys are running around in circles. They've been doing it ever since we caught them. You don't want to know how late I stayed up watching that durn trap.

I don't know exactly, they're some kinda balls of white fluff with short legs. Kinda funny looking if ya ask me. They've been eating the cow feed late at night...what's that word...nocturnal. That's it.

"Its soft!" I tell Bailey.

"No derp Sherlock, those spines of death deceive you?"

"Oh shut up, for all we know they could be spies!"

"Spies? Spies?" she laughs

"What? Never underestimate the Capitol and their mad experiments!"

"I'm pretty sure they're baby bunnies. Jus' sayin'."

"I'm pretty sure you're wrong!" I shove her. Then a brilliant idea strikes "We should let them go in school tomorrow!"

"That's sure to terrorize...the kindergartners," Bailey rolls her eyes.

"Whatever, you're just jealous you didn't think of it first!" I look up at the sun...almost eleven o'clock! "We've gotta go!"

I stand up and start running. "Hey genius, that way," Bailey points in the opposite direction.

"Short cut! Meet you there!" I slow down a bit as I approach the corrals. Don't wanna spook the horses. I stroll up casually to the fence. Durn, someone's on to me; three locks are securing the gate. Mmmkay...let's see. I scout the surrounding area. Perfect! I wiggle a busted iron fence post out of the ground. I then turn and beat the locks senseless.

I slowly open the gate. Where is he...? I keep my out for the stallion. That nasty tried to eat me last year. Ah, "Hey there sparky...want a nice crunchy carrot? Good horsey...yes you're a good huge pony..." The word 'pony' set him off. The golden brown horse charges at me. I feel a sense of deja vu as I dash out of the corral.

Mr. Evil Stallion basically starts a riot. All the mares follow him. Oh crap oh crap oh crap...it's perfect...but crap! I take the shortest route into the village area, the stampede is getting a little too close for comfort. I leap into an open window at the first house I see. "Good mornin' Mrs. Roth!"

The old woman looks up from her sewing to nod at me, "Tell your mother that she needs to bring in the wash, I think there's a strom a brewin'"

"Will do ma'am! You have a great day!" Right outside her door, all the horses thunder by. A gunshot goes off and peacekeepers are yelling. Nothin' disturbs those guys like 'wild' horses, 'specially on Reaping Day. For the past seven years. You'd think they'd expect it by now.

"You too, boy. Help yourself to a cookie on your way out," she motions to the table.

"Smells good, thanks!"

**Nia Morgan (age fifteen)**

I run my fingers over the purple silky material. It's so pretty.

"I only wore it a couple times," Ira says softly, handing the dress to me. "I thought that maybe you'd like to wear it today..."

"Wow," I breathe out, "thanks!" I hold the dress over my body. The color really looks good with my auburn hair. "I shall be a beautiful princess!" I tease, mocking my older sister. She always has her nose in a book.

Ira laughs softly. I dance around the room, twirling clumsily. "I've got to go get ready," she says, getting up off my bed. Ever since our older brother Oliver moved out, we each have our own bedroom. Even though Ira and I aren't particularly close, it seems odd not constantly having her around.

I lay the dress down on the bed the second she walks out the door. Then I get dressed in jeans and my nicer white blouse. Don't get me wrong, the dress is beautiful and I love it; it's just so...happy looking. Ira always wore it for nice occasions like Oliver's wedding or her first date with Dayton (her long time crush). Reapings aren't happy enough to deserve this dress.

I skip out the door and take the long, winding dirt path towards the Rashka's house. "Sooooorrrrrreeellllll!" I holler at the door.

The girl joins me outside and gives me a giant hug. She laughs, "Niiiiiiiia! Com'on lets get out of here before Wes catches up! He's soooo annoying!" Wes is Sorrel's younger brother and he has a huuuuge crush on me. It's not awful, but he is pretty obnoxious and of course that drives Sorrel insane.

We take a short cut through a pasture to pick up Conny Kendall on our way to the reapings. Now we can't avoid annoying younger siblings with this girl. Conny is the oldest of six and she pretty much raises them as her dad is constantly working to provide for them. We walk right into the cottage. I scoop up two year old Lucie and spin her around as she squeals with delight. "You look pretty today!" I comment pointing to her skirt.

"I don' like it," she pouts, "Conwy mae me wear it fo' 'eapings."

"Only 'cause she loves you!" I say, poking the little girl's nose. "Right, Conny?"

My friend looks up from trying to wrestle her younger brother into a tie. "Hmm? Oh, yep!"

"I look like a dork!" Ed whines.

"Oh hush," Conny mutters scrambling around looking for something, "It's classy!"

"No its not. It's stupid."

I have to butt in, "No it's not. Bow ties are cool!"

Ed looks at me astoundedly, "Really?"

I nod furiously, "Of course! Conny, do you need help?"

The girl laughs, "No I'm good. Now out the door! All of you! We're soooo late!" She herds the younger kids, Sorrel, and me out the door, as if we were sheep or something.

"Psh we aren't late!" Sorrel laughs, "there's always that stampede that delays the event!"

On our way to the villiage, we pass a squad of peacekeepers struggling to herd some animals through the road. Their attempts are laughable. We get there and assemble in our respective holding pens.

After the long speech-little Lucie was babbling the whole time and she sounded more coherent-the cowgirl wannabe escort skips over to the giant glass bowl.

"Conny Kendall!" she calls out.

"Sissy tats you!" Lucie giggles. My heart flies up to my throat, threatening to choke me.

Conny's brown eyes go wider than I've ever seen them. In a mere second, she catches the eyes of each of her siblings. Then she looks at me. "Take care of them. Please." Tears start to well up in her eyes as she shifts her weight to give Lucie to me.

I reach out to hold the confused little girl. Then I stop. Before I know what I'm saying, I scream, "I volunteer!"

Conny grabs my arm, "Don't you dare!"

"Too late," I whisper. I turn around to see my face projected on television screens. Well that's disturbing. Even more disturbing is the fact that I'm going to have to get used to it.

The escort is obviously excited. Ten hasn't had a volunteer in years. "Ooooh and for our men?" She digs a clean, manicured hand into the bowl and draws a slip of paper. She reads, "Frost Skylar!"

The guy makes his way to the 's built; my guess he works in the fields or is a farm hand. But no doubt about it, it's written all over his face. He is scared. Just like me.


End file.
